TITLE: Waiting

AUTHOR: Demon Faith

CATEGORY: Angst, Romance, Hurt/Comfort

PAIRING: Carson/Rodney

SPOILERS: Set vaguely in the realms of Season 2, but nothing very specific.

RATING: PG-13

WARNINGS: Angst

SUMMARY: ‘Just…wake up, okay? I’m right here waiting.’

DISCLAIMER: Stargate: Atlantis belongs to smart people who I’m quite happy to yield to, Paul McGillion and David Hewlett belong happily to themselves and The Carson Beckett Requestathon is the baby of zortified.

NOTES: Dedicated to Jennamajig – hope this is close to what you were looking for, hon! (And my deepest apologies for the delay!)

Thanks to Maggis for providing a gem of an idea – you’ll know it when you see it, dear. ;)

Radek’s role got bumped up after I met the hilarious David Nykl – love him! Anatomy revision has been incorporated into the fic

Prompts: tired, coffee

‘You should get some sleep.’

‘I’m not tired.’

‘He wouldn’t leave.’

Quiet.

‘Rodney, he wanted you to…’

‘And I said no!’

‘You have to accept that…he might be…’

‘He hasn’t gone anywhere! He’s right here – he’s just…waiting.”

“Waiting for what, Rodney?’

‘I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s important.’

Silence.

‘Carson – I don’t know if you can hear me…but I love you, and I know I didn’t say it, but I mean it, you have to believe me. Just…wake up, okay? I’m right here waiting.’

Hiss.

Beep.

Smash.

‘He’s not dead! I don’t care what you think – it’s my decision and I won’t give up on him.’

Red.

Ache.

Lips against skin.

Love.

It was with gargantuan effort that Carson prised open his eyes and drank in the soft shadow of the infirmary. His body felt strange, numb and heavy, and it was with a twist of panic that he realised he wasn’t breathing.

A screaming alarm cut through him like a hot knife through soft butter, and he tried to cry out around the foreign tube in his throat.

Wild eyes suddenly met his, half-obscured under a mop of dark hair and pale lips formed a shocked ‘O’ in the midst of a straggly beard.

“Hold on, hold on, I’m here. Bellamy!”

One of his nurses skidded into view – keep calm, I’m going to pull, breathe out – but he only had eyes for Rodney, staring, tear-filled eyes.

With a harsh scrape, the tube was gone and he was left gasping for breath, lungs burning and fingers spasming to touch Rodney’s sleeve, anything, just to touch.

He tried to smile, felt his face stretch unpleasantly and was frankly horrified to see Rodney burst into tears. He wanted to brush away those tears but his hand was too heavy and all he could do was provide a saltwater offering of his own.

“Love you too,” he whispered hoarsely and drifted back to sleep.

~

The next time he woke, there were others and it was Elizabeth’s face he saw first. His smile must’ve been less grotesque, because she smiled back, though her eyes were suspiciously wet.

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

He tried to answer, but his voice caught in his dry, harsh throat, and it was John who produced ice chips and supported his head as the cool water soothed.

“Heavy,” he replied eventually. “Little muddled too.”

It was then he noticed Rodney’s conspicuous absence and barely repressed a surge of panic. Elizabeth quickly stepped aside and he rolled his stiff neck to see Rodney crashed out on the next bunk. The sight brought a soft smile to his lips and he was barely listening as Elizabeth continued.

“I want to…apologise. Rodney was right, we were wrong – you have him to thank for…still being here.”

Carson frowned then and forced his head round to look at her.

“What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” Elizabeth said, concern in her eyes. “There was an explosion in one of the labs, a shard of glass…” She faltered and John solemnly put two fingers up to the right side of his head. Carson identified that as the source of his headache and grimaced – flashes of smoke and fire invading his memory.

“How long was I…?” he trailed off as he took in their pinched, worn faces and Rodney’s dishevelled appearance.

“It was nine weeks on Monday,” Elizabeth said softly.

The implications hit him like a freight train and his eyes moved back to Rodney instantly.

“He waited?” he said, his voice almost confused as his addled brain attempted to take in this new revelation of devotion that he had never previously realised.

“Yeah, he sure did. Smashed a few coffee cups too.”

Carson forced out a teary smile, his mind still reeling.

“We should let you get some rest,” Elizabeth interjected smoothly and they were gone, leaving Carson to his thoughts before the tide of exhaustion dragged him under again.

~

He was dimly aware of the argument before he regained consciousness, as he realised he had actually been aware of many things whilst buried in the depths of coma.

One voice he seized on immediately, and suddenly felt warm, comforted. The other took a couple of seconds to register, but Carson soon recognised the heated tones of Radek Zelenka.

Considering the gusto with which they were bickering, Carson concluded it had been a very long time since they’d felt comfortable railing at each other.

“Nine weeks,” he muttered to himself, and the voices stopped instantly.

“We can discuss this later.”

“Fine, sure.”

Carson allowed his eyes to open slowly and focus on Rodney’s beautifully concerned half-smile.

“Say, do they have Sleeping Beauty in Scotland?”

Carson suppressed a giggle. “Aye, we do.”

“Just checking.”

The kiss was unexpected but, if he were honest, he didn’t really mind, audience or no. There was something desperate behind that feather-touch that stirred the self-same longing in Carson.

“I’m already awake, you know.”

Rodney’s grin widened. “Never hurts to make sure.”

Carson titled his stiff neck to the side, studying Rodney carefully and wondering if he’d left at all during the past nine weeks. Which was ridiculous, because of course he had…hadn’t he?

“Are you all right?” were the words that came out of his mouth and Rodney stared at him for a moment before laughing.

“I thought that was my line,” he said, but the mirth didn’t quite reach his eyes and Carson just wanted to hold him, prove that everything was going to be fine. Then he realised he couldn’t promise that, couldn’t promise anything at all until he’d spoken to one of his staff and worked out whether the horrible tingling in his limbs and extremities was permanent.

“Is Carole around?” he asked as innocently as he could, but Rodney was no fool.

“Stay here – I’ll find her.”

Rodney disappeared and Carson rolled his eyes. “Where else would I go?” he muttered, trying to test the movement in his fingers but only managing the vaguest of twitches.

Carole appeared with an open smile and Carson could detect no uneasiness in her eyes; he released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

“Give me the worst, love,” he said hoarsely.

“We can’t be sure yet, you know that. But the fact you’re awake and talking…well, it’s a good sign. There’ll be some muscle wastage – movement’s going to take time and effort, but I’m preaching to the choir.”

Carson nodded gravely but caught Rodney’s anxious look and offered a smile, receiving a shadowed grin in return.

“We’ll try some basic motor exercises, if you’re not too tired.”

“Not at all,” he said confidently, secretly glad when Rodney sidled closer.

Carole turned back the covers and he registered the chill – good start, Carson, he thought.

“Push against me,” she said, first placing her hand against the ball of his foot. It took some doing but he managed to shift her slightly. The examination continued: top of the foot, flexion and extension of knee, hip, shoulder, elbow, wrist and, finally, rotation of the neck.

His muscles were stiff and screaming by the end but they did move and Carole nodded happily.

“It’s a minor miracle but you appear to be all there. We won’t know about memory or basic tasks until you’ve regained some strength but I’m hopeful.”

“Thank you, Carole,” he said gratefully and she exited quietly, leaving Rodney to fuss about him, complete with good-natured grumbling.

“You’re heavy, you know that? It’s like moving a sack of potatoes, but without the sack.”

“You say the sweetest things, Rodney.”

When his pillows were sufficiently plumped, Rodney produced what Carson sickeningly recognised as the prescribed nutrient of invalids – something that looked suspiciously like gruel.

“Rodney…”

“You made it, you eat it.” The hint of triumph in Rodney’s voice spoke of many occasions spent holed up in the infirmary under Carson’s strict regimes.

Carson ungratefully accepted one spoonful, and it tasted positively foul. He just resisted spitting it out, the needle in his vein reminding him that he must eat something if he wanted to get better.

“When I get back to work, I’m making this taste better,” he declared, and Rodney’s smile widened as he fed Carson the sticky mess and the doctor forced down his own medicine.

“All gone,” Rodney declared happily and set the bowl aside. Suddenly, he frowned and leaned forward, brushing the back of his hand down Carson’s cheek. It was only then that Carson realised he had a straggling beard of his own, though not quite as long as Rodney’s.

“I left it for a while,” Rodney admitted quietly, and Carson realised just how close Rodney was to breaking. He glared angrily at his hand and it jerked towards Rodney’s, brushing his fingers and causing him to look straight into Carson’s eyes.

“I’m here,” Carson said with as much strength as he could muster. “Here because of you.”

Rodney bowed his head and bit his lip. “I just knew…that if you had a choice, you wouldn’t leave me.”

Carson had no way to tell him that no decision was made, that he only had the vaguest recollection of voices, that he hadn’t really done anything at all. Instead, he just smiled tearfully and accepted the gentlest kiss.

“Time to clean you up,” Rodney said with forced lightness, but Carson heard what he really meant: I want to prove this is real – I want to see you.

He revelled in the touch of cool water over his face, cleaning grit from his eyes and soothing his itchy cheeks. Rodney lathered up his face and then contemplated him a moment, adjusting the pillows so that he was more vertical. He slid one knee behind Carson’s right side and held his head with his left hand, angling the razor so that it glinted in the light.

The blade was cold against his skin but he only had to watch the look of loving concentration on Rodney’s face to feel warm, the air-conditioned breeze playing over his now-exposed skin not bothering him one bit.

Fingers touched at the smoothness, running up and down without resistance, aftershave cooling on his cheeks. His neck tipped his head forward, capturing Rodney’s lips in a delighted kiss, communicating all his gratitude and love and passion in that enthusiastic action.

To his utter disappointment, Rodney pulled away after only a few moments, mumbling about rest and pushing himself too hard. Carson snorted and kissed him again, reassuring and chastising, and hoping his message got through.

His mission would probably have been successful too, if Carole hadn’t interrupted to throw Rodney out and tell Carson to sleep.

There would be some serious changes when he was back.

~

Carson could now bend his legs at the knee without feeling like he was about to die – a small victory perhaps, but still a battle won.

Radek had spent a lot of time hovering in the doorway. Carson would have been jealous, suspicious, if he didn’t feel so tired and the man didn’t look harried and equally exhausted.

It was only a week since he had woken, but he had come to realise that Rodney was spending far too much time in the infirmary. Surely the man had work to do, some vital research to consume his attention. The unwavering intensity of Rodney 24/7 was becoming slightly unnerving, and Carson finally summoned the courage to tell him so.

“Radek looks tired,” he said softly, and it was only with the tiniest cringe that Rodney shrugged his shoulders.

“Must be difficult, taking over from you.”

It was a wild stab in the dark, but Rodney’s shocked expression meant Carson had hit home.

“Who told you?” Rodney spluttered, but Carson ignored him.

“What happened, Rodney? You love that job, you couldn’t…”

“You happened!” Rodney said desperately, pacing and throwing his arms in the air. “What was I meant to do, leave you to waste? Leave you with some stranger?”

With a sickening lurch, Carson’s memory slid into place – that disgusting policy about coma patients that he’d always opposed, the one his unresponsive form should’ve been subject to. ‘Waste of resources…inability to support such action on Government money…don’t raise your voice to me, Dr Beckett, you don’t have to balance the books.’

His weak shoulders shook and tears were coursing down his cheeks. He had missed so much, he had never considered what they must’ve gone through, to defend him, to keep him alive and with them on Atlantis. No wonder Elizabeth and John had caved, but Rodney, Rodney…

Carson found himself enveloped in equally-shaking arms, and Rodney’s panicked voice whispering over and over again that it was okay, it would be all right, he was right there.

As he’d always been. As Carson hadn’t.

“I don’t deserve you,” he mumbled between sobs and caught sight of Rodney’s horrified face.

“You don’t…I…it’s me…”

“I don’t know…if I could’ve been…that strong…”

Carson expected to be pushed away then but Rodney only pulled him closer, beard tickling his forehead as he sighed.

“I’m still not sure I am.”

In the echoing silence of the infirmary, Carson held onto Rodney with what strength he could and tried not to feel so wholly inadequate.

~

Palm down, palm up, fingers wide, fingers closed…

“Pronate, suprinate, adduct, abduct…” Carson chanted under his breath, staring at his fingers as they sluggishly obeyed his commands, quickening even as his muscles screamed abuse and demanded he rest.

“Hey,” came a sleepy voice from the doorway and Carson looked up to see a zombified Rodney nursing a cup of coffee and looking fairly cowed.

“How did it go?” Carson asked politely, steadying his hands against the spasms.

Rodney sighed and set down the cup – Carson eyed it longingly.

“I think we worked it out,” he said finally, which Carson took to mean that Elizabeth, John and Radek had bullied him round to resuming his normal duties.

“That’s good,” Carson murmured, as Rodney sank into the chair and let his eyes drift shut.

Pronate, suprinate, adduct, abduct, pronate, suprinate, adduct, abduct. Pronate, I, suprinate, want, adduct, a, abduct, cup, pronate, of, suprinate, COFFEE!

Carson’s hand leapt forward and seized the cup. A few drops splattered on the blanket but Carson ignored those as his fingers tightened on the china and steadily brought it forward towards his lips.

The liquid heaven touched his lips and he sighed deeply. He took a long sip, the lukewarm coffee gliding over his tongue and lasting all the better for being a forbidden treat.

He downed about half the mug before Rodney stirred and he carefully replaced it on the table.

“I want…to practice my manual handling.”

Carson watched Rodney’s eyes widen, his cheeks colour, and the man leaned forward to stutter, “I don’t…I mean…Carson…”

With a roll of his eyes, Carson reached for a glinting new razor and a pair of scissors, holding them up to the light.

“The beard is going,” he declared and Rodney, eying the blades warily, leaned forward so Carson could hold his chin in his hand.

“Nice and steady now,” he murmured as he brought the scissors up and chopped roughly at the unkempt beard.

Brown tufts were soon scattered all over the bed, as Carson poked his tongue between his lips, forcing all his concentration into the movement of his hands.

Once the scissors had done their work, Carson carefully replaced them and picked up the razor.

“Hold still,” he said, his voice shaking slightly but his hands firm. He released Rodney to lather his fingers before smearing the foam over his face, a loving touch that was as gentle as his stiff fingers could manage.

The first stroke was smooth, shaving away the tough brown bristles and leaving glowing, smooth skin. The motions grew faster as his touch became more confident, Rodney letting him tilt his head as he pleased.

Pausing a moment to appreciate Rodney, head tipped back, hollow of his throat exposed and tempting, Carson realised that he was one lucky bastard and that there was some serious time to be made up.

He touched his lips to Rodney’s skin, abdominals folding him forward as his tongue flicked out to taste. Rodney gasped as Carson shifted back and replaced the scissors and razor in the bowl.

Hesitant fingers curled and brushed against Rodney’s cheek, before his face was buried in the sweet-smelling crease between neck and shoulder, a veritable feast for a starving man.

“Uh, aren’t you meant to be, um, resting?”

“Ah, Rodney, you sound almost worried,” Carson said lightly, nuzzling under Rodney’s chin.

“Carson, I think we’ll…ohh.”

With a sigh, Carson pulled away and regarded Carole steadily.

“Aye?”

“Visiting hours are over,” she said dully and Carson didn’t even protest as Rodney ran like a startled rabbit.

“Look what you did,” Carson groused, lamenting all the groundwork lost. Rodney had been treating like some fragile flower and he had to work to prove otherwise.

“This time is about you, Carson. You can’t be expected…”

“About ME?” Carson cried out in disbelief. “What about Rodney? While I was lying about, oblivious, he was here just waiting! And you expect him to keep doing that? Well, I can’t!”

Carole looked genuinely shocked. Carson felt a twinge of regret.

“Don’t upset yourself,” she said, pushing him gently down to the pillow. “He’ll be back tomorrow.”

“I’m not a child, Carole. And I am a doctor – I just want to get on with it!”

“Be patient,” she said, “it’s almost over.”

~

He should’ve known it would come to this.

“Rodney, I’m fine, I don’t…”

“No, you’re not fine, Carson. You can barely stand and what with Teyla sick and the botanists’ plague, they haven’t got the time you need. I could…”

“I said NO!”

It came out louder than he’d intended. Rodney dropped his coffee cup in shock, the dark liquid pooling on the floor as they stared each other out.

“Then what do you expect me to do, Carson?”

“I expect you to have a life, Rodney! You need to eat and sleep, and Atlantis needs you!”

“You need me!”

“No, I don’t!”

He didn’t mean that. He hoped Rodney knew that, but as those dulled eyes dipped down and he shuffled out, Carson wasn’t sure he did.

~

“Dr Beckett. How are you today?”

Carson carefully schooled his features then raised his head.

“Teyla. Are you feeling better?”

The beautiful Athosian nodded her head slowly, though her face was still pale and her features pinched.

“Infections can be nasty, you know. You should be resting.”

She arched her eyebrow but said nothing, perching on his bed the only concession to his words.

“I asked how you were.”

“Aye, you did,” he muttered, cursing the woman’s persistence.

“I notice Rodney has not visited recently.”

Straight to the point, as always. Carson wondered how long he could safely ignore her without appearing rude.

“Carson, is everything well between you and Rodney?”

“No.”

The quiet admission had escaped his lips before the thought was fully formed. The silence echoed and he considered that the situation was interminable – they were both proud, stubborn individuals who dreaded what yet another roadbump would do to their already tattered relationship.

Not that this non-communication was helping, but at least it wasn’t final. If they were actually forced to talk…

“He has…not been himself recently.”

“Teyla, lass…what do you want me to do about it?”

She seemed shocked – if he were honest, he was slightly shocked himself. For a moment, she seemed about to give up, to back away from the awkwardness of the conversation and leave him to his bitter misery, but a tilt of her head told him that this was far from over.

“I want you to bring him back.”

It shouldn’t have made sense, that collection of words, but as Carson felt an immense wave of sorrow wash over him, he realised what he had missed.

Teyla’s tone gentled as she continued, a hand on his shoulder – “He spent nine weeks living for you. Now, do you expect him to live for experiments and theories? You may not think you need him, Doctor, but have you considered that he might need you to pretend?”

He felt sick to his stomach. He’d been so selfish, so blind. If he hadn’t been so tired…but that was an excuse, wasn’t it? Rodney deserved better.

“Rodney will never stop caring. But he might accept you need him a little less.”

Carson bit his lip, struggling not to cry and belie all his bravado.

“I need him to breathe,” he whispered, and Teyla’s grip tightened.

“That’s all right too,” she replied, and the silence seemed less loud.

~

Atlantis drifted on. Teyla was discharged – Carson watched her leave, as he hefted a small stack of weights with his left hand. She didn’t say anything, just nodded to him with a significant look, which he returned gravely. He wouldn’t leave him.

Elizabeth came to see him later in the week, as he stared at his mutinous legs with a scowl on his lips.

“Having some problems?” she said lightly, and he let it go, favouring her with a half-smile.

“You could say that,” he admitted. “But it’s still progress all the same.”

Elizabeth paused a moment as if uncertain of her words. “Rodney’s going off-world tomorrow. First time…since…since…”

She gestured vaguely with her hand and he nodded understanding. Good, he was moving on, he was taking his life back – perhaps he wouldn’t need Carson’s intervention after all.

But why does it hurt so much?

“I don’t know if he’s ready.”

Carson tried to keep his face neutral.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, he’s been acting a little strangely. Staring at objects in labs, walking up and touching the Gate, and yesterday he said that he had to do this, he needed to…have a life.”

Elizabeth’s bewildered words cut through Carson, twisting guilt’s knife as he considered that he really was a complete jerk.

“Carson?” A warm hand on his shoulder dragged him back from his musings and his eyes met Elizabeth’s concerned scrutiny.

“This is all my fault, you know. I’m tired, he’s tired – it was going to happen eventually, inevitable you might say. I didn’t have to be so cruel though! Before I knew it, I’d said these things I didn’t mean and he was leaving me. I don’t know how I can make it right, if it’s even possible.”

Elizabeth regarded him for a moment before nodding to herself. “I have faith, Carson, even if you don’t. It’s good to have you back, but I want Rodney back as well.”

“I think we’re on the same page, Elizabeth,” he said softly, a plan forming in his mind.

~

The alarm chirped merrily at 5am and, with a groan, Carson raised his stiff arm to fumble with the buttons. The ridiculously cheerful noise stopped and he pushed himself up with his arms, gritting his teeth against the inevitable protest.

“Come on, come on…” he muttered, slowly swinging his legs round so they dangled over the side of the bed. Forcing himself to relax, he slowly tensed the muscles of his legs, watching them respond with grim satisfaction. He glanced at the clock again – 5.15am – just before an annoyed woman obscured his view.

“Exactly what are you doing? This is no time…”

Swallowing his first outraged response, Carson met her eyes with a cold, hard stare.

“I am going to see Rodney. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Carson, you’re in no fit state…” she spluttered, but he smoothly cut her off.

“No? Good. I’ll just be off then.”

Sliding forward all at once, his bare feet touched the floor and he felt his legs respond, individual muscles shifting to hold his weight.

He straightened, and wobbled, but Carole took hold of his arm, a frustrated sigh escaping her lips.

“If you’re so determined,” she said and hurried off. Carson stared at his feet and raised one – balance okay, muscles awake; this was going better than he’d planned.

Carole returned with a wash basin and clothes; she also gestured to the commode impatiently, and scrutinised his lurching Igor’s walk.

“I’ll fetch a stick,” she said, and by the time Carson was heaving at his socks and cursing the pain in his thighs, she had found something resembling breakfast.

Helping him with the rest of his clothing, she then presented the dish – he swallowed it down in two gulps, ignoring the taste as he glared anxiously at the clock: 6am.

“Time to be off then,” he said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. He already felt tired, weary – he’d only walked as far as the door before today, and the prospect of crossing Atlantis seemed more and more daunting.

“I can get a chair,” Carole offered hesitantly but he shook his head, gathering up the stick.

“He has to see that I’m okay…and that I need him.”

The first steps were stiff, wary, but soon he was moving at approximately normal walking pace, though Carole was hovering and tutting at his side.

It was not for the first time that Carson considered the disadvantages of a medical degree. For some perverted reason, knowing the names of the muscles causing you agony only made the pain worse, more irritating and burdensome.

As his left gastrocnemius and soleus solidified into a dead weight, Carson paused to shake out the leg, cursing under his breath as he attempted to massage some life into it.

Lattissimus dorsi then decided to spasm repeatedly, curving his spine and making it increasingly difficult to ignore Carole’s pleas to go back. As he rose, she thought she’d won – an almost-smug smile crossing her lips – but he ploughed on.

“Carson! You can’t do this! You’re not ready!”

He left her still shouting, passing airmen who stared in disbelief and scientists who tried to stop him or fetch him a chair. He ignored them all, offering a tight smile as he forced his legs to keep moving.

He put more and more weight on the stick as time dragged on, and he checked his watch again. 6.45am! He was running out of time and the Gate room was still two corridors away.

With a last burst of strength, he hobbled forward, sweat pouring off his forehead and cramp settling into his right iliapsoas, a counterpoint to the throbbing in his calf.

He entered the Gate room out of breath, as the splash receded into the metal ring.

“I am well, Colonel, there is no need to worry.”

“Well, if you’re sure…”

“She’s sure.”

Carson watched Ronon lay a protective hand on Teyla’s shoulder as John smiled. Rodney, however, was staring into the distance – he looked pale, ill, tired, and he’d lost even more weight.

Without thought, Carson forced his body forward, making a beeline for the man as if his life depended on it. In some ways, it did.

Teyla saw him first and she smiled – it took half a second more for Rodney to turn, eyes registering what he saw in disbelief.

They met halfway.

“Carson, what are you doing? You should…mmph!”

At least some muscles were in full working order, he thought gleefully, agile tongue pacifying and reassuring, claiming for ever and ever and ever.

When they finally broke apart, quite a crowd were staring and Rodney looked slightly confused, but content. Alive.

With a triumphant smile, Carson patted his arm and said, “Safe trip, love. I’ll be right here, waiting.”